


How art thou fallen

by Lakritzwolf



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: M/M, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 21:47:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20713055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lakritzwolf/pseuds/Lakritzwolf
Summary: There’s a statue in Idris that, legend has it, weeps bloody tears when an angel falls.





	How art thou fallen

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [sh_ficletinstruments](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/sh_ficletinstruments) collection. 

> **Prompt:**
> 
> "I regret nothing."

There’s a statue in Idris that, legend has it, weeps bloody tears when an angel falls. But no one has ever seen the angel weep, no document exists that speak of it.

Magnus has seen that angel. It’s a beautiful statue, shining white marble, and so lifelike the skin should be warm to the touch. 

Not that Magnus cares. Not anymore. He took care of a few last things, found a successor, and left Alicante without looking back.

He measures the time in Months After, later in Years After. 

After Alexander’s death. 

He left Alicante six years after Alexander’s death. He came back to Brooklyn twelve years after. Now it’s fifteen years after and the ring is still on his finger, and not in the box. Magnus doesn’t think it will ever be.

* * *

The news travels through the Shadow World like wildfire. 

The angel in Alicante has wept. 

The Institute discovers that the inexplicable surge in angelic and demonic magic that went down in New York coincided with the time of the angel’s bloody tears.

Magnus assists, for want of anything better to do. No one has ever seen an angel fall.

It’s less than five hours after the surge, and the edges of the shallow crater close to Pelham Bay are still smoking. And at the bottom, there is a human shape, skin a crusty black, as if the whole body had been all but burned to a crisp. There are remnants of wings, bones brittle and cracking, crumbling to dust as the being moves. A few charred and blackened feathers drift in the wind. The stench of burning skin and hair and sulfur is almost unbearable. 

They watch as the human shape begins to drag itself out of the whole, seraph blades and magic ready.

The sounds are ones of pure agony. The blackened skin cracks and bleeds, but peels off in patches, revealing new skin underneath. The last stumps of the wings fall off, leaving two raw, oozing wounds behind. 

A fallen angel.

He crawls over the edge of the crater, kneels in the sand, looks up at them. Eyes open, red-veined black. There is nothing angelic anymore about him, but the face is just as beautiful as ever.

And Magnus stares at the face of the fallen angel, unable to breathe.

“Alexander…”

“I came back to you.” The voice is hoarse, rough with pain. 

“But…” Magnus sinks onto his knees, a sob catching in his throat. How he had wished, had dreamed, of this moment, a reunion… but like this? “You… fell…”

Alec just smiles. The smile, so familiar, yet those eyes, clearly demonic. There is no angel blood left in him. 

“It brought me back to you,” Alec replies. 

“You’re a demon now,” Magnus whispers, voice shaking. 

“A price I was willing to pay, for an eternity with you.” And even in his red-veined eyes, there is the same love Magnus has always seen, always known. “I regret nothing.”


End file.
